‘Look, look,’ she murmured, and in fluent Greek she spoke rapidly to herself. The words rolled over one another, her hands grabbed her head as if it were about to explode – then her legs began to carry her on their own. Assaf thought he should run after her, but he was afraid to leave – perhaps someone was waiting to ambush him by the big gate. He remembered Muki’s first steps, how he had worried for her, and how wonderful it was when she traveled from the bed to the table on her own.
Theodora was already walking away from him, moving like a little tugboat carried over a rushing river. She opened the gate that gave onto the street, and she looked right and left. It seemed that no one was there, because when she turned her face to Assaf, there was a big, slightly dreamy smile on it. Actually, Assaf thought, if there is no one there, she doesn’t have to go out! One minute! Wait! You can come back!
But no force in the world could have stopped her now, and the gate swung shut behind her. Assaf was left alone in the empty yard. He imagined her pacing up the street, her eyes opening wider and wider. He was afraid for her. He thought he would see her running back in a minute, escaping the outside world and fearfully closing herself up in her room for another fifty years. In his wildest imagination he could not have guessed the joy that flooded through her as she faced the tsunami of the everyday. All her pain and her weakness vanished; her legs took her to Jaffa Street. On a hot night fifty years ago, she had arrived here by an old bus, then by the horse-driven wagon of a Bukharani peddler who dropped her off in front of her prison gate. Now she was standing, all her senses wide open in the face of the wonder of the street. Her face trembled with a thousand expressions, a thousand hearts beat in her chest, all the smells, the colors, all the voices and noises – she had no names for the things she saw; there were no names for her new feelings. Every word she knew failed her, one after the other, and if you could die from life, this was the moment.
She ignored the dozens of cars, the crowds of people; she didn’t notice two of Pesach’s men, who spotted her the moment she came to the main street (Look, Shishko, there’s your crazy nun – call Pesach – follow her wherever she goes). She marched straight into the road, blind with joy, completely indifferent to the honks roaring around her, to the screeching of brakes. She knelt in the middle of Jaffa Street, clasped her little hands together, and for the first time in fifty years, she prayed to God with a heart bursting in gratitude.
Five minutes later, he was running at top speed, scared to death; his hands beat the air wildly, and his eyes could hardly see a thing. For the first time since he had started this journey, he couldn’t control his breath at all. Dinka felt the change in him at once, and now and then she would look back at him in concern. He couldn’t have imagined how horrible the experience would be – every pair of eyes that rested on him made him tremble; he felt that people were scattered all over the city, lying in wait only for him. He was right: for four days now, all of Pesach’s people had been busy chasing Tamar down and, since yesterday, him as well. All performances outside Jerusalem were canceled; the artists were ordered to keep an eye out and report – the rumor in the home said something about a 2,000-shekel prize, no less, for whoever could supply useful information; and the bulldogs were given clear instructions to cease all regular trade immediately and scout the streets, looking for Tamar or that new boy, the tall guy who popped up out of nowhere and was moving through the city with Tamar’s dog, shoving his nose into everyone’s business and always keeping one step ahead of Pesach and his people.
So it happened that Assaf, who had slipped out of Theodora’s house and was trying to stick to side streets, unknowingly, and from the start, drew a train of attention behind him. He ran after Dinka, placing his fate in her hands, in her feet – he didn’t care where she was running, as long as she was taking them both away from the dangerous area of the violated house. He was trying so badly to disappear that everything he saw also became invisible; so he missed the sight of a short man standing at the junction of King George and Agrippas Streets by the falafel booth, trying to fix – as he had been since yesterday, it seemed – a Subaru with its hood up. An amputee sitting in the lottery booth informed the man that he had just now seen a boy and a dog fitting his description and told him where they went. The short man received the information without a word and dialed. Someone answered before the phone had rung even once. The short man delivered the message; the man listened and hung up. In the same moment, to his amazement, the boy and dog passed in front of him. Assaf, on his wild marathon, paid no attention to that man, either, the skinny one with thick sideburns who followed after him half-running, while he dialed and spoke very quietly into his phone: there they are, now they’re by the rubber girl, she – the dog stopped – what happened? Just a minute (he was speaking very fast and was no doubt feeling like a sports announcer). Now they’re going into the crowd, I can’t see them from here, tell everybody to get over here now, send a car, too – I have them, okay, I heard you, stop yelling, wait, one minute – what is it? What’s happening?
It so happened that the rubber girl noticed the dog, one moment before she managed to twist her whole flexible body into the big glass aquarium so you could close the lid on it. Suddenly her eyes, glassy with inward concentration, focused sharply. Her bitter face twisted and twitched; she untangled herself, untying knot after knot with popping sounds. She unstitched a leg from under her armpit and an arm from around her ankle, stood up and shouted, ‘Shishko! The dog! That girl’s dog!’
The street burst into activity. People were taken aback and started running in every direction, stumbling into one another, bumping into four murky-eyed men emerging from four different alleys and trying to break into the circle of bystanders. Assaf and Dinka snuck out of the explosion. They flew, split up, reunited again three streets later, finding each other by the sense, the deep internal terrified knowledge, that the whole world was after them. The city was a hunting field and every man around them was a hunter in disguise. Now everything was up to Dinka alone, because Assaf was almost paralyzed by fear; he had no chance on his own. She dragged him after her, called to him, and pushed forward with Super-Dog powers – she was a sled dog and a St Bernard, a seeing-eye dog and a wolf. In a narrow, dead-end alley, she dove with him into a little yard, and they both waited, huddled together in terror – they saw the skinny man, who reminded Assaf of a dried-up Elvis Presley, pass them and disappear. Dinka growled; Assaf placed a hand over her mouth. One minute later, they went back into the alley and ran in the opposite direction. Another minute of crazed running – there was no chance, Assaf thought. They’re going to catch me in the next alley. And then, a short bark of joy, and in front of his eyes was a gate with a sign: LEAH’S. He cried out in amazement. Dinka rose on her hind legs and opened the gate. He ventured a last glance behind him and almost fell with a sigh of relief into the yard.
A young palm tree stood in the center of the little yard, with a few tables and chairs scattered around it, set for dinner. An old couple sat at one of them, chatting quietly, and didn’t even raise their eyes to look at him as he entered. Assaf and Dinka crossed the yard and climbed three steps into a large room. Tables were set there as well, and diners occupied almost every table. Assaf trembled, and didn’t know what to do. Whom should he approach? People looked at him . . . he felt so dirty and drenched in sweat, a real appetite spoiler – but Dinka was already galloping past the tables, pushing him through the swinging door, and suddenly Assaf was in a kitchen.
His senses were overwhelmed by a million mixed-up impressions – a cook, a big bubbling pot, the scents of unfamiliar dishes, a frying pan whispering, someone calling ‘Arugula with Roquefort!’ from the outer room through a little opening. A young boy, slicing mountains of tomatoes; a little round man standing in the corner who looked as if he absolutely didn’t belong; and a tall, angry woman who snapped around and faced him. Her face was scarred by long gashes, badly healed. She stood in front of him, crossed her arms over her chest, a
nd hissed: What the hell was he doing in her kitchen?
Then she saw the dog and her eyes lit up. ‘Dinka! Dinkush!’ she yelled, and knelt in front of her and scratched her ears and hugged her. This is exactly how Theodora had hugged the dog, Assaf thought, and tried to catch his breath. ‘Dinka, Mamush, sweetie, where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over the city four days for you! Tziyyon, quickly, give her some water, look how thirsty she is!’ Assaf took advantage of the opportunity to peek through the swinging door for a moment to make sure they hadn’t broken into the restaurant yet.
The woman slowly rose and stood in front of him. ‘And who are you?’
Her gaze was so sharp he couldn’t speak for a moment; he had no idea how to explain to her the wild rush into her restaurant’s kitchen. All her workers – the two waiters, the boy cutting vegetables, the cook, his hand raised to point out to the sous-chef the shelf on which he could find the arugula – they were all standing, frozen, mid-motion. He looked around him in distress. Then he put on his professional armor. ‘Perhaps you know the dog’s owner?’ he asked, in the most formal voice he could summon from inside him, the Form 76 voice.
‘I asked, Who are you?’ Her voice was biting; it was a voice that said, Don’t get smart with me. She looked at him with such obvious suspicion that Assaf was practically insulted, and almost burst into the angry detailed speech that had been slowly formulating inside him for two days now (‘What the hell do you mean, Who am I? I am the one who’s been running all over the city with that dog in order to return her to the legal owner, and the one who’s been attacked by everyone I meet, the one who’s been chased after so they can tear me apart,’ etc.).
Instead, he said, ‘I work at City Hall, and I am looking for the owner.’
‘Then you can leave her here,’ she said decisively. ‘Goodbye. We’re working here.’
She was already at the door, holding it open and putting a big strong hand on his shoulder. The little kitchen returned to life – the boy returned to slicing tomatoes, and the cook affectionately patted his assistant’s cheek.
‘No,’ Assaf said. ‘I can’t.’
The woman paused, and the room stopped again. ‘Why not? What’s the problem?’
‘Because . . . because . . . you’re not the owner.’
‘Oh really?’ Her ‘really’ spiraled around him, binding him like chicken wire. ‘And how, exactly, do you know that I am not the owner?’
Dinka, who was noisily lapping up water, stopped and barked. She left off, stood before Leah, and barked at her with an unusual ferocity. Water shook off her whiskers, but she didn’t stop to lick the droplets. She stood between the two of them, stared at Leah with hard eyes, and for a moment it seemed she was about to stomp her feet impatiently.
‘Stop it, Dinka,’ Assaf said, embarrassed. ‘It’s Leah – what’s the matter with you?’
But she didn’t calm down. She circled Assaf as if drawing a line around him, then sat down, erect, her back to him, facing Leah, and barked another bark, its meaning very clear.
‘Would you look at this,’ Leah said quietly.
Something was poking his back, under Tamar’s backpack. He wanted to turn around, but then it pushed harder; it was as if an iron pipe were shoving into him.
‘Please answer the lady’s question,’ an old man’s voice said behind him. ‘Unless you want me to spray you with dumdum bullets that will tear you apart and splatter you on the wall.’
‘Moshe!’ the woman said angrily. ‘You don’t have to give such a detailed description; people are eating here!’
I’m going crazy, Assaf thought. A rifle? They’re threatening me with a rifle? What’s the matter with them? What does Tamar do that everyone loses their mind over her?
‘I am counting to three,’ said the man. ‘And after that, my finger will squeeze the trigger very slowly.’
‘You will do nothing of the kind, and stop talking nonsense!’ Leah spat. ‘And put up that cannon of yours, right now. Samir, go set a table for two in the private room, and give Dinka something to eat here. You, what’s your name?’
‘Assaf.’
‘Come with me.’
She took him to a little room where there were only two tables, both of them empty. She sat in front of him: ‘Now explain, from the beginning and all the way to the end. And I’ll only tell you once’ – she touched her nose slightly – ‘this nose can smell a lie.’
Assaf showed her the form and explained to her Danokh’s method for locating the owners of lost dogs. But Leah scarcely looked at the form; she examined Assaf closely, focusing on his face, as if attempting to absorb his being. ‘By the way,’ she remembered in the middle of his explanation, ‘I’m Leah.’ She extended a large manly hand to him and was surprised to feel his crushing handshake.
‘Now, where did you get that?’ She pointed at his swollen nose.
He told her.
‘I don’t understand, what were you doing there? How did you get there?’
He told her about Sergei as well.
‘And where’d you get that from?’
She pointed to the long scratch on his forehead; he’d almost forgotten about that one.
‘This one? Where did it come from – oh, that’s from yesterday, from a police detective.’
And he told her.
And Leah listened.
All the way through how they were chasing him across the city.
‘This is hers,’ he said, finally taking the bag off his back, and told Leah how he had taken it out of the baggage check.
She didn’t say a word. She only sat, staring at him, two vertical creases in her forehead deepening tremendously. She shook herself awake. ‘But with all this running, you probably haven’t eaten a thing today! Now eat. We’ll talk more later.’
When she said that, he felt a strong bite, deep in his gut. ‘But what about Tamar?’ he muttered, and swallowed. ‘I don’t think there’s much time. We have to hurry.’ Leah saw his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and heard his answer, and something shifted inside her. She had run this restaurant for over twelve years, and until this moment, she had never met a person who rejected an invitation for a meal. ‘Tamar is in a safe place,’ she said, breaking all of her rules of caution. ‘First, you eat.’
‘But I don’t have any money,’ he remembered desperately. ‘I was robbed.’
‘This is on the house. What do you like?’
‘Everything.’ Assaf smiled, and stretched his legs, feeling as if he’d finally drawn a lucky number.
‘You’ll get everything,’ she pronounced, standing up to her full height. ‘I’m going back to the kitchen, but don’t worry – I’m not leaving you.’
He sat and devoured with pleasure the pageant of dishes Leah began sending in to him. The food was delicate and well spiced, with one flavor after another dazzling and bewitching his senses each in turn; they were clearly saying one thing: somebody here wants to make Assaf happy.
From the passageway to the kitchen, Leah peeked in at him every once in a while, taking a good, deep, thoughtful look at him, enjoying his rude healthy appetite tremendously. She froze at one point, and tilted as if she had just experienced a back spasm or been stabbed by an idea. She called Samir over, exchanged a few words with him in the corner – she told him to go to the house, send the babysitter home, and bring Noiku over here. At once. Samir looked at her, surprised. ‘Over here? In the middle of dinner? Are you sure?’
Yes, yes, she was sure. Quickly; she needed to find out something important.
‘Look, I know that she disappeared,’ Assaf said. He felt it was time to talk business. Leah sat in front of him, stirring black coffee. ‘And I also know she’s in some kind of trouble. I want to find her. Will you help me?’
‘I would love to,’ she said plainly. ‘But I can’t.’
‘Oh,’ Assaf said with disappointment. ‘Theodora wouldn’t either.’ A long silence passed; there was some tension. Leah thought, with wonder, What,
you talked to Theodora as well? Something in him moved her very much. She didn’t even know what it was. Assaf was silent. He thought it wasn’t fair – someone had to help him now, because he couldn’t do it on his own anymore. Leah didn’t feel comfortable refusing him, either. She tried to liven up the conversation. ‘You know, I’ve never met Theodora.’ She shrugged. ‘Sometimes I think she’s just one of Tamar’s inventions, I swear. Well?’ she said, carefully probing, expectant, ‘you know that she sometimes invents all kinds of crazy ideas by now, don’t you?’
Assaf thought about Victorious. He saw the girl standing on the barrel and smiled.
‘Also’ – Leah felt she was walking on a very thin rope, talking about Tamar to a total stranger; and yet her gut was telling her she was doing this for Tamar – ‘it’s very important to her that her friends don’t meet each other. She has to be alone with each of them, as if they’re off in their own world.’ She stopped, noting the effect of her words on him. On top of everything else, he had a gorgeous smile. ‘When I ask her why, what does she tell me? “Divide and conquer”! What do you think about that?’
‘What do I think?’ It was a pleasure to be promoted to the rank of Commentator on Tamar’s Affairs, as if, on his travels toward her, he had gathered enough experience and knowledge that he could use them to explain her. He said, ‘Maybe . . . maybe this way she has more freedom. I mean, she has’ – suddenly Reli’s word jumped into his mouth – ’space.’
‘Exactly what I was thinking!’ Leah replied, excited. ‘If you ask me, her “divide and conquer” lets her be a completely different person with each one of her friends. Don’t you think?’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking,’ Assaf concluded. ‘Her freedom is the most important thing to her.’ He sat, troubled, for a moment. Something completely different was confusing him – something about Reli and Rhino, as if, for one second, it occurred to him that perhaps there was something in what Reli had said.
Leah rested her head against her big palm and looked at him, and also through him a little bit; she was carried away by a distant idea, played around with it a little, and returned to him. ‘Tell me, you –’ How to ask this? ‘Do you do anything, outside of school? Like art or something?’
Someone to Run With Page 13
